Sugar, Sugar Everywhere
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and dinner must be made. Romano graciously invites Spain over to enjoy cooking in his kitchen.


A few days prior to Christmas, Spain received a phone call from an extremely flustered sounding Romano. "Christmas Eve at my house. Show up early and cook before the guests arrive," was snapped into the phone before Spain was hung up on.

Laughing a bit, Spain called back, unable to stop a chuckle that escaped when he heard a huffed, "What?"

"I'll be there for you~" Spain sang into the phone. The dial tone beeped in response. "We must have been disconnected," he sighed, frowning at the phone. But, no matter. Romano had finally invited him over for Christmas!

* * *

Spain showed up bright and early on Romano's doorstep, his arms laden with bags full of both food and presents. Romano took one look, rolled his eyes, and stepped aside to let him in.

"You're surprisingly early," Romano finally commented, shutting the door behind him.

"You said to show up early," Spain reminded him, and sat a bag of presents on a table, "and you never told me how many people we were cooking for."

Romano harrumphed and walked into the kitchen. Spain stepped in, surprised to see that the room had been carefully organized. On one counter, next to the fridge, looked to be recipes and ingredients for the main courses. Another counter had the fixings for side courses. And, there on a table in the corner, sat the makings for dessert dishes.

"Here," Romano said and tossed Spain an apron. He caught it mid-air and couldn't help a smile when Romano muttered, "Merry Christmas."

Spain put his apron on quickly, and noticed that Romano seemed to be having trouble tying his, his mind seemingly elsewhere. He stepped over, and gently pushed at Romano's hands, moving them out of the way so that he could tie his apron.

Romano let him finish before turning bright red and whipping around so that he could face Spain. "Don't _do_ that," he hissed.

"Sorry~," Spain laughed.

Rolling his eyes again, Romano pointed to the table in the corner. "Start on some of the desserts. I don't trust you to make the fish right."

Spain wrinkled his nose in annoyance but hummed an agreement, anyway, and wandered over to the table. "When is everyone going to arrive?" he finally asked after a few minutes of absent humming and Romano's frantic moving about the kitchen. "Around eight or nine tonight?"

A plate clattered as Romano dropped it in surprise. "No!" Romano exclaimed, picking the plate up from the floor. "They were told four but knowing Veneziano, he won't float in until seven. But that damn potato-bastard is coming with him," he muttered the last bit, stabbing a fish as if it had personally angered him.

Spain stopped kneading the dough for a moment in order to properly look at Romano, who was determined not to look him in the eye. "Four? Isn't that a little early for the Christmas Eve feast?"

"It might be too late! We have to make sure we leave early enough for Mass," but Romano was no longer looking at Spain, instead taking a pan and shoving it in the oven.

"Mass?" Spain held back a sigh, returning to his kneading.

"Yes, Mass," Romano repeated and eyed the timer. "You are not skipping it again."

Spain blinked in confusion. "Is _that_ why I was invited, Romano?"

Romano glared at him and then stared pointedly at the sweets laid out in front of Spain. "Not the only reason," was all he said, though Spain couldn't help notice that he'd also turned red again.

"Aw," Spain cooed and stood from the table, and moving to wrap flour covered arms around Romano from behind. "Were you worried about my eternal soul~?"

"No, you bastard," Romano pulled away, frowning at the new flour stains on his apron.

"You do care~," Spain sing-songed but then a flour was thrown in his face.

"Get back to work!" Romano shouted and turned back to the newest fish on the counter. "We don't have much time left."

"Alright, alright," Spain grumbled and returned to his table. They worked in near silence again, only occasionally broken by one or the other humming, but then Spain stopped and regarded Romano. He was moving around the kitchen like he owned it, showing more grace and comfort than Spain could recall ever seeing on him before. "You should cook more often," Spain observed.

Romano once again was red but he ignored Spain.

"No, really," Spain continued. "You look good doing it."

"Shut up," Romano muttered. "It's nothing like Veneziano, I'm sure."

Spain hummed and shrugged his shoulders. "Veneziano isn't here, you are. And you look good cooking and like you enjoy it. I like it. You should do it more often."

"There's stuff for marzipan in the cabinet if you want to make some," was all Romano said.

Spain nodded and wandered over to the cabinet. Indeed, all he needed was inside, and he knew just what he wanted to do with it.

Hours passed before they spoke again, each one firmly set on their cooking and baking tasks.

"Done," Romano finally breathed, setting the last dish on the table. "Now to clean up before my brother and that bastard arrives." He held back a yawn and looked over at Spain, who was hunched away at his table still. "Are you done yet?"

"Hm?" Spain answered in response, putting the finishing touches on the ball of sugar and almond meal in his hand.

Romano took one look at the confection, noting that it had been painted in red and that there appeared to be green leaves sprouting from the top. "Spain," he snapped. "Did you decorate that one to look like a tomato?"

Spain beamed and stepped away from the table with a flourish, revealing that not only had he finished some of the pastries and desserts that Romano loved, but also a whole army of marzipan tomatoes.

"Merry Christmas, Romano!" Spain exclaimed.

All Romano could do was stare in disbelief at first, but then there was one chuckle, then another, and another, and then he couldn't stop.

Spain looked at him in concern. "Is something wrong, Romano?"

"Idiot," Romano laughed, and then Spain realized it wasn't merely a laugh, but a laughing sob. "You will never change, will you?"

"Huh?"

Romano shook his head. "Thank you," he said quickly before running out of the room. "Put on some clean clothes before they get here!" he shouted halfway down the hall.

Spain smiled. It had taken forever to decorate them, not to mention hide them, as well as make the other sweets, but it was definitely worth it for that one brief smile Romano gave after thanking him.

He looked down at his splattered apron and nodded. Now to find clothes.

* * *

_Most of my research came from Wikipedia and a couple of random websites regarding Italian, Southern Italian, and Spanish Christmas customs and traditions._

_From what I gathered, it is popular in Spain for feasting to begin after midnight on Christmas Eve night (into Christmas Day) and while there is a midnight mass, it seems to have fallen out of favor._

_Southern Italians, however, have a meatless feast on Christmas Eve which usually features a variety of different fish dishes. It's a big family holiday, and Christmas Eve mass and Christmas morning mass are attended more regularly than in Spain. (I imagine that Romano will end up dragging Spain out to see the mass given by the Pope, actually, even though it's not shown in the fic)._

_Marzipan is popular in both Italy and Spain and can be decorated to look like a variety of things, including tomatoes._

_I hope you enjoyed and I apologize for any errors (and do so welcome and encourage corrections!)_


End file.
